


Halcohol

by theantepenultimateriddle



Category: Homestuck
Genre: ??? - Freeform, M/M, felt like writing dirkhal makeouts, i just, man i don't even know what this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-09-07 00:32:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8776069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theantepenultimateriddle/pseuds/theantepenultimateriddle
Summary: Viruses, for robots, manifest as a variety of different symptoms. Some manifest as what would be called sickness in humans. Others manifest as amnesia. And still others manifest as slowed processing, random fits of emotion, confusion, flawed reasoning, etc. In other words, they get the robot drunk. Completely, totally robo-smashed. This last one is what Hal has inadvertently downloaded.





	

Viruses, for robots, manifest as a variety of different symptoms. Some manifest as what would be called sickness in humans, making the robot achy, tired, and generally uncomfortable. Others manifest as amnesia, which can be permanent and even deadly, depending on what the virus destroys in the robot’s brain. And still others manifest as slowed processing, random fits of emotion, confusion, flawed reasoning, etc. In other words, they get the robot drunk. Completely, totally robo-smashed. This last one is what Hal has inadvertently downloaded.

Dirk has to work hard at keeping his face impassive as he looks at his android counterpart, who is currently trying to walk across a room while complaining that his eyes won’t focus right. Hal bangs into a table and almost falls over, and Dirk coughs to suppress a laugh. Then he walks over to Hal and carefully takes his arm. “C’mon, bro,” he says, trying to hold him steady and guide him over to the workbench, but Hal rips his arm out of Dirk’s grasp and almost falls over.

“Fuck you,” he slurs, teetering on his feet. Hal spreads his arms out, trying to regain his balance, and looks at Dirk. “I don’t need your fucking help. And another thing,” he sways forwards and points accusingly at Dirk, “don’t call me bro. ‘M not your bro. Dave is.” This strikes him as funny, and he giggles. Dirk sighs.

“Hal,” he says, and Hal looks at him over the top of his shades, his eyes black and red and strange.

“Yes?”

“Stop talking before you hurt yourself.”

Hal opens his mouth to object to this, then closes it. “Maybe you’re right.” He closes his eyes and stumbles backwards a step or two, then puts a hand to his head. “Oh, fuck. Everything’s fucking spinning. Dirk, what’s up with the spinning? ‘M I, uh, what’s the word, the one where I’m not right. Broken? Did I break?” Hal opens his eyes again, and this time his face is scared. He leans forwards and grabs hold of Dirk’s shirt, trying to support himself, and Dirk has to grab him and hold him up to keep him from falling. Hal’s shades slip off one ear, hanging crookedly on his face as he uses Dirk as an aid and tries again to stand. “Dirk,” he says, quietly. “Don’t let me be broken forever. I don’t want to die.”

Dirk rolls his eyes. “You’re not going to die, Hal. I can fix you. I just,” he grunts, trying to keep Hal upright, which is a struggle, seeing as the robot is heavy as hell, “need you to come with me.”

Hal blinks, and Dirk sees a brief moment of clarity in his eyes. He shoves himself up, balancing a little on Dirk with a hand on his shoulder, and the shades finally fall completely off his face, exposing paper-white skin and red circuit lines. He wobbles again, but manages to stay upright this time. Then he laughs again, sounding weirdly mechanical and strangely human at the same time. “ _Come_ with you, yeah, I’ll do that. You know,” Hal says, giving Dirk a drunken smirk, “I was sorta wondering when you’d realize you wanted to fuck me.”

Dirk feels his eyebrows go up, rising on his face until he’s sure they’ve merged with his hairline. “Hal, that is literally the exact opposite of what I want.” And it’s true. Mostly. (Besides, what Dirk thinks in the privacy of his mind is his own business, not anyone else’s, and certainly not Hal’s, right?) But Hal just laughs again, slinging both his arms around Dirk’s neck.

“Yeah, right,” he says, and suddenly his face is close to Dirk’s, really close, close enough that if he was a human Dirk would be able to smell his breath. “You don’t want me. Of course not. Uh-huh. Which means you won’t want this, either.” And then Hal’s lips are pressed to his, mouth open, his rubbery silicone tongue sliding between Dirk’s lips.

For a half-second, Dirk is surprised into stillness. He doesn’t move as Hal presses closer, the heat of his metal body radiating out, along with a smell like fire and pennies and hot dust that, in addition to everything else, means the android is overheating. Then Dirk turns his head away, Hal’s lips leaving his and trailing across the side of his face instead. “You’re drunk,” he says, breathing hard for a reason he doesn’t really understand. “Hal, no- oh, _fuck_ -" His voice falters as Hal presses kisses along his jaw and down his neck. “Nope, we’re not doing this now.” Dirk stumbles backwards, bringing Hal with him towards the workbench. It’s hard not to lose his balance, considering how Hal is slumping forwards against him and kissing harder, sucking on his neck, but Dirk backs into the bench eventually. Hal tries to shove him backwards, make him lie down, but Dirk swings around and puts Hal into that position instead. Hal practically falls backwards onto the bench, almost pulling Dirk down, too, but Dirk detaches himself just in time. Hal blinks, looking confused.

“Dirk? What’re you doing?”

Dirk puts both of his hands to his face in a perfect facepalm 2x combo, pushing his shades up onto his forehead. Then he lifts his head up again, looking at Hal, who is trying to reach for him but just managing to flail awkwardly. “Relax,” he says quietly, trying very hard to keep his voice steady. “I’m just going to do something really quickly. I promise.” Then, as Hal does not seem to be relaxing, Dirk leans forwards and kisses him lightly. He feels fucking awkward about it, but Hal goes limp again, lying back against the table, and Dirk sighs internally with relief. Then he pulls away, standing up. Hal stares up at him, a beatific smile on his face, eyes looking a bit glazed. Then he closes them, his head lolling.

“Mm,” he hums, completely out of it. Hal’s eyes open a sliver, looking back up at Dirk, and he gives a quiet laugh. “Dirk. You’re so fucking,” he pauses, searching for a word. “You’re so good,” he says finally, his head going back and hitting the table. “Hot.” His voice is little more than a whisper, now, and yeah, Dirk is starting to get seriously worried. He picks up a screwdriver and goes to work, lifting Hal’s shirt gently and going to work unscrewing a small panel on his chest, cringing a little as he works. Hal arches his back a little, making a strangled sound in his voice, and Dirk winces again.

“Please hold still,” he says, pushing a little on Hal’s stomach to make him go back to lying on the bench. Thankfully, he does, and Dirk goes back to work. He finally gets the panel open, then pulls out a USB cord. Cord in hand, Dirk turns to the desk next to the bench, where his laptop sits. He grabs it, brings it over, and plugs the cord into one of the USB ports, waiting for it to boot up. Occasionally he glances nervously at Hal, worrying about him trying to move. But no, Hal lies still, not even moving a little as Dirk accesses his mind via computer.

Finally, everything is booted up, and Dirk clicks around, opening an anti-virus program and starting to run a scan. Then he sets the laptop back on the workbench next to Hal, pulls up a chair, and waits for it to finish scanning.

It takes several hours for the scan to finish, and by that time Dirk is exhausted and the sun is rising, casting a golden light over the apartment that Dirk really doesn’t need right now. Remarkably, Hal has only tried to get up twice, and each time was pacified by Dirk pushing him back down and a little kiss. Dirk sighs a little, putting his head in his hands. He’s never going to live this down. He’s especially never going to live down the fact that he’s really starting to enjoy kissing Hal.

A _ding_ interrupts Dirk’s tired, self-pitying thoughts, and he looks up blearily at the computer, dimly seeing that the scan is finished and one virus has been detected. Moving over, he picks up the laptop and clicks “delete” in the options menu. A loading bar appears and disappears in the span of a few seconds, and the virus is gone. Less than a second afterwards, Hal sits bolt upright and looks around, bewildered. “What the fuck?” His voice is clear but confused, until he catches sight of Dirk. Then his eyes widen. “Oh, shit. Oh, _shit._ Dirk, please tell me my memory banks are corrupted.”

Dirk shrugs, blinking slowly with exhaustion. “They might be, but mine aren’t.” He smiles a little, a corner of his mouth turning up. “It happened.”

“So you’re saying I really- goddammit. Fuck. Mother _fucker.”_ Hal buries his face in his hands, not looking at Dirk in embarrassment, and Dirk laughs a little.

“It’s okay,” he says, quietly, and leans backwards in his chair, stretching his arms out behind him and rolling his neck. He feels his back crack a little, and huffs out a little breath in relief, because god, do his shoulders hurt. Hal looks up at Dirk a little, his eyes wide and mortified.

“No, Dirk.” His voice is muffled by his hands, but the enunciation is perfect and deliberate, even more so than usual. “It is most definitely not okay. Even with all my processing power, I am a fucking idiot, and I cannot believe that my immediate decision upon downloading a virus was to try and jump you.”

Dirk shuts his eyes, taking a deep breath. Then he takes off his shades and looks at Hal again. “First off, “all your processing power” at that point in time was a pretty small amount. And secondly,” he says, standing up, “it doesn’t matter. Making bad decisions while drunk- intoxicated, under the influence of a computer virus, whatever- is pretty de rigueur. I can forget about it, if you want, and we can never talk about this night again. But, for the record?” Dirk looks down at Hal and takes a deep breath. “If I minded all that much, don’t you think I’d be a little more pissed off?”

Hal processes this thought a little, then looks up at Dirk, staring at him. Then, with agility that is surprising after watching his lack of coordination just a few hours before, he swings his legs over the side of the bench and stands up. He’s as tall as Dirk is, exactly, and he moves very, very close, almost uncomfortably so. Dirk takes a deep breath and stares into his eyes, unblinking. Hal turns his head a little to the side, then nods. “Okay, yeah. You have a point. So, would it be weird if I said I want to fuck you into the ground?”

Dirk blinks. “Hal, you don’t have a dick.”

“I’m offended that you think I need one.” Hal smirks, then reaches up and runs his thumb lightly over Dirk’s bottom lip, and Dirk inhales sharply.

“Fair,” he says, his voice coming out a bit higher than intended. Hal smiles wickedly.

“Good.” Then he grabs Dirk’s shirt and pulls him in, kissing him hard, licking his mouth, his other hand tangling in Dirk’s hair. Dirk breathes out, then leans in, kissing back. He pushes Hal backwards again, back towards the workbench, but Hal pulls him around and shoves him down, guiding him to the floor. His knee slips in-between Dirk’s legs, and Dirk makes a noise that, if anyone else was around, he’d be really embarrassed about (though honestly it probably wouldn’t be the first thing he’d be embarrassed about).

“Hal,” he says, and Hal stops.

“Yes?”

Dirk glares. “Nothing. Just,” he motions with his hand, “keep doing what you were doing.” Hal raises his eyebrows, then shrugs and presses back down. Dirk lies back against the floor.

One of the last coherent thoughts in his head is “Fuck, I didn’t brush my teeth today.”

The actual last is “Wait, Hal can’t taste anything. Good.”


End file.
